


The Other Side of the Door

by iqom



Category: Deltarune (Video Game), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Deltarune - Freeform, Deltarune Mettaton, Deltarune Papyrus, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Ghost Mettaton, Happstablook - Freeform, I had to do my boy right you guys, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, papyton, the voice behind the door
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-14 12:57:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16493063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iqom/pseuds/iqom
Summary: I’m Nobody! Who are you?Are you Nobody too?Then there’s a pair of us!~illustration by MylCreates~





	The Other Side of the Door

**Author's Note:**

> ~DELTARUNE SPOILERS AHEAD!~  
> I've been sad over Mettaton's predicament in Deltarune since I played it, and I had to try and make it right somehow.  
> I was inspired by Emily Dickinson, who rarely left her house and spent most of her time writing poetry alone. Of course, Mettaton's words reminded me of her famous poem, "I'm Nobody".  
> I hope you enjoy this sweet sweet Papyton. Many happy returns to Undertale.

Papyrus’ birthday party this year turned out to be a catastrophic disaster.

The skeleton had, in vain, gone to great lengths to ensure the party’s success. He’d handed out invitations personally to everyone in town, with “RSVP— ASAP!” written very clearly at the bottom. Last year, no one attended his party. He figured it was because he had only invited a select few monsters and this year he would just have to broaden his horizons!

And yet, even still-- nobody responded and nobody came.

 ~~

Papyrus liked to look for silver linings on bad or hurtful situations. Luckily for him, the lining for this one was easy to see. If it weren’t for Papyrus going door to door, handing out invitations, he would have probably never discovered that Napstablook (the ghost who lived a few blocks down the road) had a rather well-spoken roommate with a smooth voice and gentle nature. A lonely heart like the skeleton's own; creative, romantic, a dreamer.  

Papyrus knocked on the door that day to deliver Napstablook’s invitation and was greeted by a voice— low in register and yet soft, muted, like the buzzing of a vinyl record seconds before the music begins…

“Napstablook isn’t home, darling,” the voice said to him. _Darling._ The pet name, said in such a sweet voice, made Papyrus' soul quiver under his shirt. “I’m also afraid that my cousin isn’t too fond of parties. They’re shy.”

“What about you?” Papyrus responded, rocking on his heels. “Do you like parties? Because you’re also cordially invited!”

“Oh…really?"

"Really!"

The voice sighed quietly on the other side of the door. "I don’t... leave the house." 

“Ever?”

“Ever.”

And so Papyrus determined that the best course of action would be to come visit the voice again the next morning, as the voice could not come to him for his party.

 ~~

The voice sounded surprised to find him back:

“Napstablook isn’t home, darling. They go out until nighttime.”

“I’m here to visit you!”

“...Me? But I’m just a nobody.”

“Well… I’m a nobody, too!”

 ~~

Papyrus fell into a routine, visiting the little lopsided house every day without fail. The more he came and the longer he stayed, the more the voice opened up to him; telling him about music and melodrama and melodramatic music. Papyrus found he could easily listen to this voice talk all day as he leaned up against the doorframe, idly imagining what the lips producing the voice might look like or how the hands belonging to the voice might be gesticulating. He figured that the monster behind the door _had_ to be supremely beautiful. Only the most gorgeous of monsters could possibly produce a voice like that.

“Could I come inside sometime?” Papyrus gathered the courage to ask one afternoon. “I want to see what you look like!”

There was a heavy, oppressive pause.

“Not much to see.” The voice was hard, suggesting adamant unwillingness to elaborate on the subject.

“Oh. Okay.”

Silence.

 ~~

“How’s the weather?”

Three weeks went by since their initial introduction, and Papyrus was sitting on the stoop as usual. This was the first time the voice had asked about the weather, or really shown any sort of curiosity about what lay on the other side of the door.

Conveniently, this time of year was Papyrus’ favorite, weather-wise. The days were becoming shorter and shorter; quintessential late autumn days where the dark shadow of perpetually overcast skies made the paved roads look vantablack. Frigid gusts of wind whispered of the coming winter and tugged at the few stubborn orange leaves that still clung to wiry branches. It stormed at night, thunder booming as torrential rainfall assaulted the windowpanes and frightened children in their beds; but every morning afterward, the air was fresh— the kind of freshness only heavy rain could cause— and dew sparkled like constellations in the dry grass.

“Many would consider it dreary, I think... but I love it!” Papyrus responded happily. “The leaves on the ground are in prime crunching state. Have you ever crunched a fall leaf?”

The voice chuckled softly. “I can’t say that I have.”

“What?!” Papyrus was taken aback. “That will simply not do!”

He leapt to his feet and collected a burnt-orange oak leaf from the sidewalk. It was broad and crispy-- good amount of crunch potential.

He slipped the leaf through the letterbox, taking care to not crumple it prematurely. There were a few beats of silence, and then:

_crunch_

“How was it?” queried Papyrus. That crunch sounded spectacular.

“Nice,” said the voice. “Thank you, darling.”

“There are a lot more out here with equal crunch, I think,” Papyrus suggested hopefully, “Care to come look for some with me?”

“I wish I could. I miss being outside.”

Papyrus’ browbone furrowed. “What’s stopping you?”

“You’ve... seen Blooky-- Napstablook, right? Wearing their sheet when they go out?” The voice was heavy, deluged with melancholia. “I’d have to wear a sheet too, if I want to look even _half_ real. I can’t bear to be seen like that.”

Papyrus was quiet as he processed this new information. He had thought Napstablook was made out of that flowy material, not that they wore it like some sort of cloak.

“Sometimes I wonder if I really exist at all.”

“You must!” reasoned Papyrus wisely. “Exist, I mean. You have a voice, and a voice comes from a body--”

“You don’t understand, Papyrus,” the voice lamented, “I _don’t have_ a body. I’m just a soul and shifting atoms. Every time I go outside, some monster just walks right through me because I’m barely even there.”

Papyrus opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. It didn’t feel like the right time. A small hole was wiggling its way into his heart like a worm in an apple and in that moment, he was overwhelmed with sadness. The voice’s palpable suffering was crushing him like it was his own weight to bear.

“If I just stay inside… and never look in the mirror...” the voice whispered, wet and wobbly in anguish, “I can pretend that I’m real.”

 ~~

Papyrus returned at midnight, resolute.

“Papyrus,” the voice said sleepily, “What are you doing back here so late?”

It was a dry night, which was rare for this time of year; it seemed like a sign to Papyrus that he _had_ to come back. The streets were empty and quiet, awash in penumbral shadow, but clusters of stars littered the vast expanse of sky, enshrouded by wispy clouds, and it was too enchanting of a sight to pass up. 

“There’s nobody around,” explained Papyrus-- wide awake, naturally. “And it’s not raining, so I figured now would be a good time for you to… come outside?”

“Oh, darling, I--”

“The stars are so beautiful tonight!” Papyrus interjected nervously, desperate for the voice to agree. “It would be such a shame if you missed them.”

A silence that seemed wider than the sky above stretched out from behind the door; the kind of silence that was almost _audible in its silence_ , for it put its listeners on edge and made them hyper-aware.

“Could you… not look at me? Just keep your eyes on the stars?”

“I promise,” Papyrus said sincerely.

“...Okay.”

Papyrus turned his face towards the heavens, eyes trained on the waxy crescent moon as he heard the deadbolt turn in the door beside him.

“You… you don’t have skin,” remarked the voice. The immediate surroundings were brighter now, swathed in dusty pink. Papyrus knew intrinsically that it was from the glow of a soul.

“Nope! Never found the concept very appealing, to be honest!” Papyrus chirped.

“You’re better without, beautiful. The moonlight’s reflecting off of your bones.”

 _Beautiful._ Papyrus felt a shiver of delight dance up his spine. The voice gave him funny feelings like that, fragmented moments of intensity that made his toe bones curl in his shoes.

“My, my. You were right. The stars are… magical.”

Papyrus sat quietly for a while; focusing hard on the sky above, his gaze tracking from star to star--

“I wish I were a star.”

“Really?” Papyrus frowned. “You’d be so far away.”

“Oh, no,” laughed the voice. “I mean…I want to be a _superstar_. I want to perform. I want monsters to come and watch me perform. I want… to be liked--”

“You already are,” Papyrus said plainly. The voice didn’t reply.

When he felt something on his hand, Papyrus momentarily forgot his promise and glanced down at it before hurriedly turning his gaze back to the sky.

What he saw was… nothing. There was nothing there. Only a faint disturbance in the space just above his open palm, like how the air above a boiling pot wobbles from the heat. But Papyrus could _feel_ something; a slight pressure and an even slighter warmth on his bony palm. He knew it had to be there, he knew it was real--

He knew that someone was holding his hand.

* * *

 

    

* * *

 That very next morning was, Papyrus decided, the perfect sort of day to acquire a special someone.

Not just a friend, but an Other of Great Significance; a monster to whisper sweet nothings to and gaze up at the night sky with.

The skeleton already had the perfect candidate in mind, of course. His feelings-- complex feelings-- were blossoming with every passing day, unfolding like an orchid, growing stronger and stronger until they were simply undeniable.

“You make me feel happy!” Papyrus confessed through the door. “You make me feel… worthy!”

“You make me feel real,” said the voice.

Papyrus’ soul ached behind his ribs, like it wanted to reach through the letter box and offer itself to that beautiful soul, that rosy soul on the other side of the door…

“Could I… please… come inside?” Papyrus asked.

“Yes, darling,” said the voice. The deadbolt turned, and he opened the door to let Papyrus in.

**Author's Note:**

> https://iqomton.tumblr.com/


End file.
